Hero
by sanguinechyld
Summary: One man's view of the final battle. To say more would be to give away the entire story. Slash implied.


You can insert your general disclaimer here. I don't own a slightest bit of the Harry Potter empire, much to my chagrin.

**Hero**

What a predictible scene. It screams of climax, ultimate battle between good and evil, finality, and all that rot.

The weather is cold and windy. Despite there being no clouds in the sky, the light seems dark, the air heavy. Death Eaters, Order members, and Aurors are scattered everywhere on the grassy meadow, battling. On a little hill, festooned by the light of curses, two figures battle each other. I know one of them is Harry Potter, and the other is Lord Voldemort. I think they've cast a shield around themselves, because I can't distinguish which is which. I smile softly.

According to my own survival tactics, I have cast an Unnoticable Charm on myself. Really, what other way is there to battle? Rather than assign myself a wizard to duel with, I wander from battle to battle, picking off wizards or witches as I see fit. I think about six wizards and three witches are tied to me by a life debt by now, and they don't even know it.

As I make my way to the hill, and the thickest of the battle, I barely avoid tripping over several bodies, some mangled beyond recognition. I restrain an urge to turn and flee as a green curse whips past, so close that the breeze ruffles my hair. I send a Reducto Curse back at the offending witch; she dies with a look of utter shock on her face.

Looking back up at the peak of the hill, I see a shimmering white dome has surrounded the only battle that truly matters. Death Eaters and Aurors alike are trying desperately to shatter the shield, and see the combatants within. My heart clenches unexpectedly; I find that I too want nothing more than to run up to the dome and attempt to break through. I satisfy myself with picking off the wounded who are still able to cast.

_Crunch._

I look down curiously, raising my boot. There, crushed into the dirt, is a blood red flower. Odd, that. Flowers shouldn't crunch. From the petals, droplets of red coalesce and run off into the grass.

It looks like it's bleeding.

_I am so high. I can hear heaven.  
I am so high. I can hear heaven.  
Oh but heaven, no heaven don't hear me._

Suddenly, the ground beneath my feet trembles. Above the general din of the battle, a single chilling scream of agony is heard. My blood runs cold; I have never before heard a human voice carry so much pain. The white dome explodes, killing those who had been trying to break through. The shockwave hurls me on my back, and I tumble down the little hill, which is now surrounded by a miasmic cloud of grey smoke.

The sudden silence after is deafening. One soft anguished wail is heard. Before I can turn to see it, I hear the telltale pop of a Disapparition. For a few seconds, the air is filled with the sound of disapparating wizards. Then, all is silent again.

I know why they've left. They all were wearing amulets. Amulets which burned at the moment of his death. They know they lost.

Blindly, I run up the hill, not caring what I'm tripping over, kicking the dead. I have to see...if he's still there...my rational mind is telling me there's no hope, that if he isn't already dead the blast of that dome would have killed him, but I don't care, I just...

The smoke is finally clearing. Took long enough. I survey the destruction surrounding me. The grass has been burnt to a black crisp. Mangled body parts, not even whole bodies, are painted on the ground outside of the perfect circle where the dome had been erected. Inside, the ground looks nothing like the smooth hilltop it was before; now, gaping holes were blasted into the dirt, some still giving off wisps of smoke, others tinged faintly with red.

No...The smoke cleared too soon.

I don't want to see this. I don't want to stand here. Surrounded by death. A mere handful of wizards are up and about, mostly nursing wounds or trying to stagger to others.

The battle is over. We finally won. After years of fighting.

But is the price worth it, I wonder?

_And they say that a hero can save us.  
I'm not gonna stand here and wait.  
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.  
Watch as we all fly away._

My cohorts are all wandering around, poking at the bodies of the fallen enemy, making sure they're all dead. Morbid, really...some of them are taking wands as trophies. Pathetic excuses for wizards, the lot of them.

There he is. Oh, Merlin, he looks horrible. And he...he...

He's not breathing.

I force myself to walk slowly up to him, as if he were any other body. A gentle breeze caresses him, making his robes move. It almost looked like he was moving. Maybe, maybe he's still...

My feet still when I reach his side. A lancet of pain runs through my body. His eyes stare up at the sky...dull, and unseeing.

I stare down at him. Somehow, even in death, covered in blood, he looks peaceful. I wish I could feel like he looks.

I don't think I'll ever be able to rest peacefully again. Not without him by my side. I bend down, gently pushing a lock of his hair out of his open eyes. Eyes that will never shine with joy again, never stare at me with hidden love, never glaze over while we make love.

I feel something inside of me die.

_Someone told me love will all save us.  
But how can that be, look what love gave us.  
A world full of killing, and blood-spilling  
That world never came._

It should never have come to this. Could I have done something differently? Could I have managed to save his life?

My love, my life. Gone, while I waited. I wasn't even the last thing he saw. My name was not the last word on his lips. I reach out a hand to his body, trembling. I pull it back swiftly; I cannot touch him. I am afraid.

My mind shrieks in protest as I stand back up. No one can ever know. We kept our love secret in life; it seems I must keep the secret now, hold it close, till my own death. Life does not seem so appealing, anymore. Not without him.

His life has ended. My own is now, essentially, forfeit.

_Now that the world isn't ending, it's love that I'm sending to you.  
It isn't the love of a hero, and that's why I fear it won't do._

I am so wracked with grief, I cannot even sense someone approaching me from behind. A hand settles on my shoulder. My face freezes. I feel my cold mask settling over my features even as I turn.

"My Lord."

"...It appears I have finally won."

"Yes, Milord." He looks down at the body behind me.

"Almost anticlimatic...It is a true shame you couldn't turn him."

"I am sorry, my Lord." How can I do this? How can I speak so callously of him? My true thoughts are raging, howling behind the prison I've created for them. Voldemort must never know.

"Twenty long years have I waited for this moment. Now, nothing stands in my way."

"Yes, Milord." Can the bastard not hear the falseness in my words? Of course not, he's too busy gloating in his insane psyche over his victory.

"I regret your father died before he could see our day of triumph."

_I don't you bloody bastard I wish I could dance on Lucius' damned grave -_

"However, Draco, you shall now take his place as my second. A fitting reward, I believe, for bringing me my victory."

_NO you can't you can't say it I WON'T be your second I WON'T be my father I DIDN'T bring you your bloody victory -_

"Thank you, Milord. You are most gracious."

Bow. Kiss the hem of his robes.

He turns, begins to walk away. He pauses for a moment.

"I shall give you the honor of preserving his body. It shall be as a warning to all others. None can oppose me." And he leaves.

_And they say that a hero can save us.  
I'm not gonna stand here and wait.  
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.  
Watch as we all fly away._

Something wet rolls slowly down my cheek. I tell myself it must be rain, despite there not being a cloud in the sky. I turn back to the body at my feet, kneeling. Casting spells that preserve the flesh, that will keep the dead from rotting. I barely notice as the body before me changes texture slowly, turning from malleable skin to an unnatural marble hardness.

I can't remove my eyes from his. Those beautiful eyes...they used to sparkle...I could read his every emotion in them. Now, they stare up at the sky, sightless, dull, forever.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way..." I can barely whisper, my throat is so choked.

"_You_ were supposed to win..." His image wavers before me as my eyes fill with tears never to be shed.

"Harry."

_And they're watching us  
(Watching Us)  
And they're watching us  
(Watching Us)  
As we all fly away._

Well, that was my first attempt at writing a fanfic. I hope you enjoyed it!

Review, if you are so inclined. I would be ever so greatful!

Song: Hero, by Nickelback


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